tribute to Poe
From my old eyelids looked into his eyes while
with my tattered pride
offal thinking of all my evil deeds
A prosecution
hand with his spear pointed me
look at me! I'm not the same now!
I might be hope ...
With deep voice moaned
minute - you've changed, I hope
but do not want to give hope
on this day, my faithful companion
in which I tell you ...
- do not say! Will I die?
A corpse on the carpet
a corpse in the shadow
and the wall, watching, hands keep turning
mouth in a smile
a crow on the ledge
Poe poems in hand. It is better to die
redeemed
to die in dark past.
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